


Magic Soaking My Spine

by highest_water



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, F/M, Princess Emma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highest_water/pseuds/highest_water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She meets him on the hardest day of her life and yet somehow meeting him changes everything. Magic AU in the Enchanted Forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

He's somewhat overwhelming. His gaze turns her inside out. It edges aside the walls she has so carefully built until she is laid out before him; a series of blemishes joining together.

She desperately attempts to hold his gaze while she breathes heavily.

In.

Out.

Wills herself to meet his painfully blue eyes head on, yet with every second she feels increasingly vulnerable.

Time is a strange entity. No more so than in moments such as this. She swears time slows down under the weight of each second of his inspection. He tilts his head to the side as he scrutinises her and the moment seems to play itself out in slow motion. His contemplation baffles her. She cannot explain it but she feels as if he _knows_ her. Knows her in a way that nobody in her life does (Not anymore). This nameless boy with understanding written into his brows.

She feels her chest heaving from her run - neigh, sprint - through the copse behind the house. She welcomes the burn in her lungs because it is a pain she can deal with. Now she has stopped, now he has found her, she begins to panic.

It will be seconds before the others in his team join him and she will be escorted back.

She just needed a moment to breathe. To be alone before the whirlwind of questions and pain (and grief).

He hasn't taken his eyes off her but he hasn't approached either. Maybe it is because she has made no effort to run further. Although, running away was never really the point of this endeavour. She had felt herself being swallowed by her father's grief and the shock in the expressions of the guards appraising her. She did not want their pity, nor their appreciation of her actions.

Yes, she had saved him.

But she couldn't save _her_.

She wasn't enough.

There is something calming in his presence, she finds, and her breathing gradually begins to return to normal. The slight turning up at the corner of his mouth suggests he too senses this, but then reading people is part of his job - sensing lies and falsehoods cloaked in truth.

Perhaps that has helped him to master his own emotions so well. His nonchalant air only betrayed by the storm raging in his eyes.

A commotion in the trees behind him causes the fear to take hold of her once more. Her eyes dart to the trees and then back to his. He hasn't turned at the noise. Hasn't taken his eyes from her.

'She's here,' he calls, 'she's safe.' She notes his accent is not local to the area and then he gives her the smallest nod of encouragement before four further members of the secret guard appear through the trees.

It is nothing more than a small inclination of the head but it helps her to stand a little taller. She pushes her shoulders back and tries to appear calm as the other men appear.

(Tries to look beyond the pity in their eyes.)

They remain respectful and dip their heads in acknowledgement of her.

When surrounded by his colleagues, she realises that he is younger than them all by a few years, although he is a few years older than her.

He finally turns his head away from her so he can speak to his colleague. He talks quietly so she cannot hear and gestures with his arm to the trees surrounding them. Whatever it is that he says she is grateful as three of the new guards leave to further explore the forest.

They'll be long gone.

She knows this.

So do they.

'Your highness? Are you hurt? Princess Emma?'

Her mind must have drifted so she had not heard the guard's earlier questioning.

She nods her assent gesturing to the gash on her arm and mumbles an apology.

She notes the crest on the elder guard's uniform and the stripes decorating his shoulders. He's a captain of the guard then, she thinks.

When she finally looks to his face she finds a kind, muted smile and eyes that are crinkled at the corners. Blue eyes.

He extends his hand to her, 'Liam Jones. Captain Jones if we're being formal.' He speaks in the same lilted tones as the younger guard and she suddenly realises that they must be brothers. Same voice, same eyes, same way of carrying themselves with quiet reassurance.

Without realising, she moves her head to look for the younger Jones brother but he seems to have disappeared as quietly as he arrived.

'My brother has gone to carry out a trace search for residual magic.' He speaks, answering her unutterable thoughts. She bites her lip in confusion. These Jones boys are good at their job. They're certainly reading her well.

As she had felt with his brother, there is something about Liam Jones that makes her trust him. 'Emma Charming,' she extends her hand to him, 'or if we're being formal, Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest.'

She does not think she has ever appreciated a sound as much as the soft chuckle he replies with. It is a sound that gives her strength. She can do this. They will get through this, she and her father.

They have to.

'We'd best be heading back,' Captain Jones states. His voice is soft but firm and Emma finds herself following him as he begins to head back the way she came.

They don't speak on the way except for her quiet thanks when Liam holds branches back for her to pass. As the trees thin out, giving way to the immaculate garden lawns, she feels her pulse begin to quicken once more.

Her feet stop working of their own accord. She knows she will have to relive what happened for the palace guards, and the secret guards (she hopes Captain Jones is present to support her) and she suddenly questions whether she will hold it together or fall apart.

It is then that she spots him - the younger Jones brother. He is standing deep in conversation with the deputy of the palace guards. He must spot her out of the corner of his eye as she suddenly finds herself locking eyes with him across the lawn.

This time, when he nods, she nods back and somehow finds the strength the follow Liam inside.

\--------

Her mother had always called her 'wilful'. Killian Jones, rising star of the esteemed Secret Guard, calls it 'bloody stubborn mindedness'.

She'll take either.

Her father laughs at the pair of them and for that alone it is worth it. They need this - positive action. Need it to get through.

It's been six months.

It's been six months and they're piecing themselves back together. Their hearts, their kingdom.

She'd been determined, after it all, to be better. Better prepared, better trained, better equipped to deal with her magic.

She is forever grateful that her father had only nodded when she had requested (and by requested, she means demanded) it of him. He had merely stated that he had expected her to ask and that she would need training here, at the Palace, rather than at the training facilities down by the lake.

As much as it frustrated her, she understood why. She'd be putting everyone else's safety at risk as well as herself.

Thus, she finds herself sweating and breathing heavily among the palace gardens. Killian has removed his cloak and turned up the sleeves of his uniform but besides that he looks annoyingly fresh. Her father has put aside the court documents he was pouring over and watches.

Killian trains her around once a week. As Liam becomes more and more involved in court meetings, Killian steps in to fulfil the captain's duties. She is normally trained by a guard named Philip, who Emma likes immensely, or Mulan. Mulan who Emma respects enormously but is somewhat weary of. Killian specialises in trace magic and so here they are.

She's frustrated with herself. She can't find the trace. Knows it is here because Killian put it there. She's found all of the ones across the grounds that had lead her to here and now she finds herself stumped.

Killian just waits for her. She'd rather he baited her (as he sometimes does) or yelled at her for not being able to do this. He waits for her instead. One leg crossed over the other as he leans lightly on the wall. It's infuriating.

'You're insufferable,' she half yells at him as she paces up and down the path.

Her father, who had long put aside the court papers he was reading, chuckles behind her. She turns to glare at him next.

He raises his arms in surrender. 'I'm sorry,' he grins. 'The two of you just make me smile.'

That gets Killian's attention. He suddenly pushes himself off the wall to stand up straight. She fights the urge to roll her eyes. He occasionally, occasionally, lets his guard down around her father now. At David's request, he only addresses him formally in meetings but it amuses her how difficult he finds this blurring of lines.

'We're not even doing anything!' she sighs.

Her father merely smiles and sits back.

Killian speaks. Finally. (She wishes he hadn't.) 'You need to let the magic come to _you_. You're focussing on yourself too much. You're frustrated and negative and you want it too much.'

'Well excuse me for wanting to get this right. We can't all be Merlin's gift to trace magic!' She sounds petulant. She knows this.

And he's right. Which makes it worse. She's overthinking this. Worried that she can't do it. That she isn't good enough. She tries to quash the voice in her head that whispers ' _Again_ '.

Killian steps into her space then. His voice remains calm and determined. 'You can do this, Emma. Believing you can't won't help.'

'What makes you so sure?' It's meant to come out as a challenge but the words tumble out before she can clothe them in bravado.

'I have half a mind to believe you can do anything, Swan.'

His eyes suddenly seem incredibly blue. She smiles at the nickname. He finds her gazing at the swans on the lake more often than not when he comes to train her. 'About right,' he had said, acknowledging her kinship to the the birds, 'beautiful but fierce.'

'Clear your mind,' he instructs. 'Think of a time where you felt calm. Channel it.'

She draws a steadying breath and closes her eyes.

She sees blue.

Blue eyes and a contemplative smile. It baffles her that this is the memory she conjures but then he was her calm in the storm that day. 

She feels it. Feels it tingling beneath her skin. Feels the magic soaking her spine. It's warmth pulsing through her skin. (Liam had insisted that she master tracing light magic first. She knows tracing dark magic will feel very different.) She opens her eyes and raises her hands before her to track the motion of the magic she can feel. The answering glow from the corner patch of rose bushes floods her with warmth.

She did it.

She can see Killian holding back an 'I told you so' in the way he pops his tongue into his cheek.

'Well done you highness,' Graham calls to her as he marches across the lawn. 'Captain Jones is here and Lady Lucas,' he informs David with a nod.

Her father stands, gathering together his papers. 'Killian, will you join us? I'd like your input on a few of the things I've noted in here.' He taps the papers held tightly in his hand.

Killian nods and retrieves his cloak from where he had tossed it over the wall.

'I'll see you later,' her father says as he presses a kiss to the side of her head.

Graham bids farewell also and the two men depart.

'You did good today, Emma,' Killian informs her.

She shrugs but feels the warmth of his praise spread through her anyway. He _is_ good at his job. She was pushing his buttons before with the jibe about being Merlin's gift to trace magic. She also wasn't entirely lying. It's impressive watching him work and she knows he doesn't give praise away lightly.

Even to a princess.

'Thank you,' she smiles suddenly letting the exhaustion from her concentration wash over her.

'Get some rest,' he says kindly and she idly wonders how he always manages to do that. To read her so well. It can't all be a part of the job.

She smiles weakly as he departs. Knowing the fight will only get harder from here on in.

\--------

Her father organises for her to visit Elsa and Anna in Arendelle. Three months. She is dearly looking forward to seeing her friends, and to benefitting from Elsa's tutelage, but she is worried about leaving her father. She has visited friends in far off kingdoms before but the thought to worry about her mother and father never occurred to her. Now it is just the two of them, she worries.

'He'll be fine, Emma.'

She turns away from the water to see Killian standing there. He's wearing his guard's uniform and Emma wonders whether he is arriving or leaving the Academy. The more she gets to know he and his brother, the more she comes to realise that they work all hours of day and then some. She has no idea when Liam factors in seeing his lovely wife and son.

'I know,' she sighs, 'it just feels...different this time around.'

Killian moves to perch beside her on the pebble stones. 'It will be, a little.'

She appreciates this vastly about Killian - his honesty. It's not that he doesn't treat the princess with respect, but he also treats her as Emma and for that she will be eternally grateful.

'He'll miss you greatly, but he will be alright.'

'Will you keep an eye on him for me?'

'Me?' She rarely manages to stump Killian Jones so she feels a little pleased with her request. 'Just to be sure here, you want _me_ to keep an eye on your father?'

She nods.

'Your father, the King?'

She nods again.

'Bloody hell, lass. How am I to do that? He's a grown man and my sovereign. I hardly think he'll accept me calling in for tea!'

She waits for him to agree to her terms but instead he mumbles and apology about his language.

'You're not bloody sorry for it at all,' she grins, tasting his turn of phrase on her tongue. 'You swear like a sailor when you're training the recruits. I'm no different.'

She can't quite name the look in his eyes when he appraises her then. 'You are different, Emma.'

And she'd normally rankle against being treated differently because of her royal blood but there's a whispering inside of her acknowledging that it isn't what Killian means at all.

\--------

She receives a letter two weeks into her visit.

Swan,

He saw right through the 'calling for tea' guise and so your father agreed that I could keep an eye on him for you so long as it were on his terms. He's determined to make an archer out of me and he's a bloody demon with a bow. My right arm will never be the same and I am holding you entirely responsible.

Killian

Anna questions the smile that lights up her face but she wants to keep this to herself. She pens a reply poking fun at him but she does make sure to thank him in amongst it all. Her father hasn't, to her knowledge, picked up a bow since...well. She's delighted that he has. (She's also a little delighted by the image she has of her father and Killian together in her mind.)

They write back and forth for the remainder of her time there. Her letters are longer, but Killian's replies are always swift and always bring a smile to her face.

She is eager to be home and when the barriers are temporarily lifted between the kingdoms for her to cross she eagerly steps into the warmth of her father's embrace. They are in the Captain's office at the Academy; it being far too risky to even temporarily lift the barriers at the Palace. Liam awaits them outside and greets her warmly.

She quickly glances around expecting to see Killian. It doesn't go unnoticed.

'Killian is preparing to speak,' Liam explains and suddenly her joy at returning disappears.

Her mouth is dry. 'Preparing to speak about what?'

Her father squeezes her to his side a little tighter.

'There was an attack. Yesterday, at the recruit training camp in the east. There were several fatalities.'

Emma lets the latest blow wash over her. How much more of this can they take?

Liam swallows back his emotions. 'Zelena led the attack. Tink was killed saving some of the recruits.'

Her heart sinks. She had only met Tink once but had immediately warmed to this woman who was capable and strong and gave Killian a run for his money.

'Killian went straight there when the message came through. His presence caused Zelena to flea but there were already fatalities.'

She understands now why Killian feels the need to speak. They trained together, he and Tink. Fought together. 'Where? Where is he?' she croaks.

She and her father are tucked behind a pillar out of sight from the waiting crowd gathered to hear the news. Liam has taken his place next to Killian as she watches and listens to the younger Jones brother.

He does wonderfully, if you can say such a think about such a situation. He is collected and assured of the information, but speaks from the heart. When the crowd calls questions to him, he answers them with confidence and with determination for their course.

Her heart catches in her chest when a young reporter from the crowd asks him what will happen if they lose. She has no idea how she would answer such a question.

'It is a dangerous game to deal in 'What ifs' and one that plays into the hands of the Dark One. Hypotheticals and fear are the breeding ground for darkness.'

Emma glances at the crowd and sees that they are hanging on his next words. (So is she.)

'That is not to say that we cannot expect dark days ahead. It would be naive not to, but we must act. We _must_ act and plan and unite against these senseless acts of violence. Gold and his supporters need to know that we do not accept their terms for our future. We have a choice to make and I, and all of my fellow colleagues, will choose to honour our friends by continuing to fight for the future they valued so dearly.'

Killian and Liam move swiftly away from the crowd. Liam's hand grips tightly on his brother's shoulder. Emma stands amazed. She glances at the crowd and sees them realising that they now have two Jones brothers who they can call a hero.

She does not hear the words Liam speaks to his brother but Killian is pulled into his embrace and as much as Emma was looking forward to seeing him, she does not wish to intrude.

He finds her later, walking through the Palace grounds.

'How are you?' she questions. Now that he is up close she can see the lack of sleep and the hurt which clings to him.

'Not the best,' he shrugs.

They walk along in silence together for a while.

'It's nice to have you back.'

Her heart flutters. 'Have you gone soft on me while I've been away?' It works. Her attempt at humour. He laughs and she thinks he needs that today. She also thinks he might need to hear the truth. 'I missed you too.'

He stops, turns to look at her and smiles. She can feel her magic pulse under her skin. It floods her from head to toe until she is nervous that he will be able to sense it. Sense these feelings for him which are too much to address.

If he does sense anything, he doesn't comment. Instead opts to fill her in on his archery lessons with her father. It's dark by the time they stroll back to the palace doors and despite the horrors of the last few days she thinks he looks a little brighter.

They have parted a hundred times but tonight it feels different. He rocks slightly on his feet and reaches to scratch behind his ear.

'Swan, I'm glad you're home.'

She steps forward and hugs him. He's momentarily surprised before she feels his arms wrap around her.

She's glad to be home too.

\--------

They see each other less now that he no longer comes to train her. The newly minted 'Hero of Misthaven' (as Regina sarcastically labels him) is in demand. Emma sees the toll the burden of expectation has on him. His normal confidence and eloquence disappear when someone speaks to him of it.

That doesn't mean that he doesn't handle it beautifully for the public. He does. Even her father thinks so.

In private, he hates that he has been singled out alongside his brother. Hates it because he feels he is only doing his job. Hates that his anonymity and privacy have been encroached. These are things Emma understands all too well.

They see each other less now but it's different to before. Better, somehow. When he visits it is to see _her_. To spend time with her. There is not training to be had, no tutelage. Simply two friends enjoying their company.

It is always the highlight of her day when she gets to spend an hour with him.

She accepts this as fact but refuses to contemplate it any further.

It's hardly the time and she hardly knows what to do with her feelings.

They're filing out of a court meeting as Emma returns home from a visit to the local village. She may have to wear a cloaking charm but she still revels in the freedom. Ruby stops to talk to her on the way and as they are talking, Killian appears flanked by his brother and Regina.

The tone of the conversation isn't particularly friendly and she overhears Regina's scathing parting words to Killian - 'It's amazing where a handsome smile can get you these days.'

Emma's blood boils. For his part, Killian winks - actually winks - at Regina as her mother's relation disappears. The Jones brothers remain deep in conversation before they too depart.

Ruby must sense Emma's confusion. Nobody ever accuses Regina of being the warm and welcoming type but her hostility toward Killian was palpable.

'It's the trace search,' she hears Ruby speak as she drags her focus back to the moment.

'Trace search?'

'One of the stipulations your mother put in place when Regina first turned spy for us against Gold was that a trace search was carried out on her person before the start of every meeting.'

All of that makes sense to Emma. Regina, her father says, is a valuable asset and a brave woman for changing sides but Emma finds herself agreeing that a trace search would still be necessary. The Dark One is capable of manipulating even one such as Regina.

'What does this have to do with Killian though?'

'He carries out the trace search since your father invited him to the war council meetings at court. He's the best equipped but she doesn't like it.'

'He's just doing his job!' Emma argues.

Her friend smiles at her. Ruby may be older than her by quite a few years but she's always been a good friend and somewhat of a sister figure to her. 'Emma, we all know that, Regina included. The fact is that your mother used to do the search, myself in the interim, but it isn't our specialty.'

Emma's brow furrows.

'He sees _too_ _much_ , Emma. More than Regina is comfortable with. I could carry out the search perfectly well to determine whether she was safe, but Killian's insight is different. He can see what she has done when she has been with Gold.'

Oh. Now she understands. She cannot imagine what it is to lead the double life Regina does but that doesn't excuse her attitude towards Killian. She opens her mouth to state this but her friend raises a hand to stop her.

'Emma, Killian can handle himself. Your boy has just as much sass as Lady Mills when he wants to,' Ruby grins in appreciation of the fact.

Emma dearly wishes she could hide the blush on her cheeks caused by Ruby's words. Ruby simply grins and presses an affectionate kiss to her flaming cheeks before departing.

\--------

It's eight months later when they take Killian. Emma is a day shy of her eighteenth birthday.

Killian is (was) twenty two.

She should be wishing for balls and adventures. She blows out her candles and wishes that he does not suffer. She does not ask for his return. No one returns when the Dark One takes them.

Besides her father and Ruby, Liam is the only person she agrees to see once the godforsaken formal engagements have been completed. She knows she will have appeared morose at the celebrations. She doesn't have the heart to care.

When he enters, she is curled up in the window seat. It's a warm evening but she wraps her arms around herself seeking a different kind of warmth and comfort.

Liam sits quietly by her feet for quite some time. They watch the sun set low over the horizon; its beauty at odds with the cruelty of this world.

When she finally looks at Liam, she sees a broken man. He had not appeared so when he had been among society earlier. He was clearly hurting, but he was ever the professional. Now...now he is grieving for a brother he has lost.

She takes his hand and squeezes. Tears spill from her own eyes even if the damn does not burst in Liam's.

'I should have protected him.' It is barely a whisper but Emma catches his sentiment on the wind.

'You both know the risks of your job, Liam. Don't...don't do it to yourself.'

A silence hangs between them. Companions in their grief. She feels the slightest pressure on her palm as he squeezes her hand (He knows no words can offer her comfort).

He scratches behind his ear with his other hand and the gesture almost forces her composure to break. She remembers another doing the same whenever she embarrassed him, or when he was praised by a member of the higher echelons.

The meaning behind Liam's unease is revealed as he pulls a small package, no bigger than the palm of his hand, from the inside pocket of his guard's uniform.

She is immediately shaking her head. She cannot pretend to celebrate her birthday any longer. She's exhausted by it.

'It's not from me, lass,' he breathes and Emma's eyes are suddenly wild and searching Liam's for confirmation that it is from _him_. She finds it in the sad upturn of his lips.

'He, well he's had this for a while and he would want you to have it, Emma.'

She cannot bring herself to move.

Liam stands and presses the soft paper package into her palm. 'For when you're ready,' he whispers softly.

She dimly registers that Liam quietly exits the room but everything slides out of focus as tears mist her vision. She clutches the package in her hand and sobs.

 


	2. Part 2

Soft beams of sunlight cascade through the arched windows of the meeting room and spread their warmth across the tables. One catches the adornments on her bracelet and Emma looks down to rub the tiny silver swan nestled next to a pearlescent snowdrop. The gift had never left her wrist since the night of her birthday three years ago.

The tenderness of the gesture had broken her heart that night - a snowdrop for her mother, a swan for his 'swan'. Now she wore it is a talisman of hope and strength when she was hardened by grief and war.

There had been others since Killian was taken of course, but their side was making progress. The light would win. She had made a promise to him. For him.

Shaking her head, she tried to shrug off where her memories were leading her as she focussed on the meeting at hand. Her father was absent. Trying to negotiate further support from neighbouring realms.

Victor was now speaking of the progress he and his research team were making. It had been the reason Killian had been taken they had later come to realise. He posed a threat because of his position and his connections and the way the public viewed the Jones brothers as heroes, but it was what he was uncovering that they feared the most.

His strength in the field had always been his ability to source trace magic when others could not. To untangle the complicated web left behind. To find clues in the way they used magic to consume and manipulate good people into puppets of darkness.

He had uncovered some of their secrets. He and Victor had been secretly working on ways to counteract their control. To restore individuals to themselves.

He had gotten too close. Close enough that The Dark One himself came to collect.

She was only grateful that they had never managed to force him to do their bidding. She does not know he managed to resist. Gold's success rate for converting the living into a minion in his army is terrifyingly high and having one of the golden boys of Misthaven at his disposal was too big of an allure.

For months afterward she awoke from nightmares where he returned. Returned an emotionless host for their darkness. She could not have hurt him. Even though it wouldn't have been him. Just a dark shadow wearing his face. She could not have done it.

Neither could Liam and it had made them vulnerable.

They'd spent months on edge. Too on edge to grieve but what followed was the heartbreaking realisation that he was gone.

She remembers Liam's fight with Regina that day with perfect clarity. She, none of the council members really, had seen the Captain lose his calm in such a manner before. His anger rolled out before like a storm over the ocean. He had berated Regina for not knowing more, accused her of not searching harder for Killian's whereabouts because she took a disliking to him, questioned her true allegiance.

It had changed Emma's opinion of Regina, that day. That argument. How she handled herself and accepted Liam's accusations as if she understood that he needed so desperately to be angry at someone either then himself (as if it was his fault).

And it was Regina Emma sought out when she finally found the courage to ask the question she didn't want the answer to. Regina had simply squeezed her and and nodded. 'I think by now Gold has realised he can't turn him, so yes. I think he's dead.'

She closes her eyes as the memory hits her afresh. She knows people say that time can heal all wounds. She thinks they're wrong. Time gives you strength and perspective but it can never truly smooth over wounds cut so deep.

Elsa's cool hands suddenly finds hers under the table and gently unravel her finger tips from where they had been clenched in her palm. Angry half moons blossom on her skin where she has dug her nails in. She hadn't even realised.

She offers Elsa a smile but finds the other woman staring ahead intently. She is grateful for her subtlety. She and Liam had sought refuge with Elsa during those months where they feared his return. Her support, and that of her kingdom, have proved invaluable since.

Her skill set greatly aids Victor's research and Emma wishes she could have met Killian. She smiles to herself imagining the two of them obsessing over magical theories in a book but does not dwell on the idea.

It does not do to dwell on that past in times of war. Besides, it is her turn to speak.

She has gotten good at this. Her role as a leading figure of their fight. Her father, she knows, is proud of her and she is lucky to be surrounded by such good people.

She has Liam and his wife Isobel, Victor and Ruby, Graham, Elsa. She knows she is lucky to find happiness in such times.

Knows in her heart that it will never be enough.

\--------

She's frustrated. It doesn't happen as much as it used to anymore. She's better at managing her emotions, at channeling them into something productive rather than counter productive. But she's been working on this element of the containment charm for hours with little progress.

She's glad she is alone this evening (her father visiting King Eric on business) as she is fairly certain she looks half crazed glaring at various inanimate objects around the room as if they have personally wronged her.

The one in front of her on the desk has. The perfect miniature replica of The Dark One's castle and grounds sits on the table before her. It's alight with a web of various spells interwoven and entwined. Arching over the structures and stretching across the lawns.

The beauty of it is long lost on her. She's been tasked with creating a series of containment charms ready for when they take the attack to him. They're not there yet. She dreads to think what it will mean for Liam. He and her father are at the top of The Dark Ones list and as King, it cannot be David to lead the attack. It will be Liam to go forward.

Liam who treats her as a sister. Liam who has a beautiful wife and two sons.

She flops into the chair by the window, surrendering for the evening. Technically she has completed her part of the plan but she wants to do more. She's fairly certain that if she can intersperse disabling elements within the containment charms then they could immobilise half of Gold's army within the grounds.

She'll get there (it's her 'bloody stubborn mindedness') but it won't be tonight.

And she must have drifted off because the next think she is aware of is the door to her study flying open and Graham standing before her.

All traces of sleep vanish when she takes in the expression on his face. Fear shoots through her veins. Is it her father? Ruby? She half rises from her chair but he is before her in an instant.

'Emma,' he grips her arm tighter than she imagines he intends to, 'Emma, Killian is alive. He's back.'

\--------

It's a blur. How they get from the Palace to Ruby and Victor's house. It must have been raining because her cloak is sodden but she feels a little drunk. She feels boneless and light headed. Ruby is there to great them and she feels a cup of something warm pushed into her hands.

Graham leaves (she imagines to go and tell her father) once he can see she is in Ruby's care.

Ruby's hands clasp around her own to stop them from shaking.

She doesn't understand.

'Ruby, I don't...how? Is it true?'

'Yes!' Her eyes shimmering with tears. 'It's _him_. I didn't believe it until I saw him myself.'

She falls into the chair beside her. Her vision swims before her. It's too much. Her mind and heart race with fears and disbelief... and joy.

She hears footsteps fast approaching down the corridor and rises on shaky legs to great Liam. He pulls her into a fierce hug.

'How, how is he?' She gasps.

'I don't bloody know!' Liam all but shouts. 'He won't see me.'

'What?' She cannot fathom it. If he won't see Liam, something is wrong. She needs to see him for herself. Why would he see Ruby and his brother?

'I'll talk to him,' she says to Liam. Squeezes his forearm in an attempt to offer comfort. She makes to move past him but his hand suddenly tightens over her own. The fear and anger in his eyes now replaced with regret.

'He won't see _us_ , Emma.'

He won't see her. He doesn't want to see her. After all this time. He doesn't want her. She bites down so hard on her lip that she begins to taste blood. 

Ruby moves to comfort her but she pushes her hand away, 'Don't. I'm fine.' The lie tastes bitter on her tongue.

'So he's in there with Victor then?' She doesn't want him to be alone but knows she makes a poor attempt at hiding the anger in her voice.

There is a look exchanged between Liam and Ruby that evaporates the last shred of calm she has. She is about to yell some more when the door to the room behind them swings open.

_Now_ she understands the look.

Regina.

She may understand the look but little else.

She sweeps towards them in her inky cloak. 'Relax, I mean no harm.' She arches a perfectly arched eyebrow at Emma but her words are not unkind. Emma notices the tiredness clinging to her features. Senses the slight buzz of spent magic in the air around her.

'He wants to see you, Liam.' She nods to the Jones brother who promptly turns on his heels and disappears. Victor himself exits and squeezes Emma's hand as he and Ruby leave the entry hall in whispered tones.

'I don't understand,' she breathes more to herself than to her companion.

'Me neither,' Regina agrees coolly.

He still doesn't want to see her. The notion tumbles around and around in her head looking for an exit that isn't there. She sits and sinks her head into her hands.

'It's my understanding that he has no idea that you are here at present.'

Emma lifts her head from her hands and glances at the elder woman beside her. Regina's gaze is focussed straight ahead of her but for the briefest of moments she squeezes Emma's arm.

  
If anybody understands loss and pain, then it is her.

'He refused to see the two of you because he was trying to protect you.'

Emma shifts to sit up in her seat, intent on listening on what is to come.

'He wanted to be sure, to be certain that he wasn't under his control. Adamant that he couldn't see the two of you until he knew he wasn't a threat. Knew that Gold wasn't able to use him against you. That his hand hadn't been enchanted to act without his accord.'

'His hand?'

'They, _he_ took it. Took his hand to torture him and then reattached it in an attempt to force the hijacking that way. To control a part of Jones if not all of him.'

  
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He cut off his hand? He cut off his hand to try and make Killian break?

Her mouth was dry as she tried to speak, not truly knowing what she could possibly say.

'It's failed as far as I can tell. Victor and I have tried every detection spell,' Regina pauses and looks away, 'I certainly can't use it to control him in anyway.'

Emma understands the other woman's tiredness now. Feels a rush of gratitude towards her for attempting something she has fought so hard to turn away from. She hesitates, 'Is he, how does he seem?'

'Amazingly intact, at least physically. Emma, the wounds will go far deeper than that. You should know that his hand will only be one of many terrible crimes. Gold is not used to failing.'

Emma nods to herself, trying to take in Regina's words. She knows they are meant to help her prepare but she finds herself grappling with the edges of her control.

Regina stands to leave, saying something about needing to see Victor to discuss regular screening spells.

'Regina,' she calls after her, 'thank you.'

'This may surprise you, your highness, but I am somewhat glad to see him.'

\---------

Twenty minutes later she finds herself standing in the same room as him. Breathing the same air as him. Seeing him here in the flesh and not in her dreams and her nightmares.

'I'm not contagious.' The whispered attempt at half hearted humour is thoroughly undermined by the heckling cough it causes. The exertion of which brings a sheen of sweat to his brow.

'Hey, you,' she whispers in return. The words too inadequate, too meaningless but she is prevented from speaking any further by the building tears which overspill.

This was a moment she had never even allowed herself to dream about. He is alive. He is home. He has come back to her.

'Swan,' he breathes before coughing once more. This time drawing blood.

She moves to his side in a instant to comfort him; If comfort could be offered when one is in such a state. He's broken. The hollowness to his cheeks and the haunted expression in his eyes clench at her heart. She knows that whatever scars were on the surface are no mirror to the damage inflicted on his spirit.

Killian Jones has surprised her on many occasions but none such as this. How is he here? How was it even possible that he was in one piece? Battered and broken but still him.

She clasps his right hand in her own. She can't help but notice how it felt smaller somehow. His grip remains strong though as he clings to her. Their fingers weave together finding their way home.

'I'm so sorry,' he utters, voice thick with emotion.

Emma rises to her feet before she can stop herself, 'Don't you dare! Don't you dare apologise to me for this.' The tears flow freely down her face now but it does not deter her. She moves her hand to cup his hollowed cheeks. 'Don't ever apologise for coming back to us. To me.'

She feels his tears as they pool onto her hand but a soft, wearisome smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and Emma struggles to remember a better sight than this. He is still in there, her Killian.

She tries to pour into her gaze all of the words they had never said and the words she will not say now. Not like this.

She isn't certain how long they stay like this. Her perched on the edge of the bed with her hand on his cheek. His eyes keep tracing over her features as if making sure this isn't some cruel joke. That he is here. That he is finally home.

'Liam...he wants to bring them to see me...,' his words are hesitant. Laced with uncertainty.

She understands his fear. He looks dreadful. He looks tortured. She tries not to show this but a six year old will be far less subtle.

'They are your family and they love you. The boys will simply be delighted to see their uncle and I am fairly certain that Isobel will break down the door should you not let her in.'

Her speech earns another smile and Emma counts this a victory. She makes it her personal mission to make it happen more.

'Okay,' he nods in assent and Emma releases her hold on him to go and let his family in.

Opening the door she finds Liam sitting on the floor spinning a wooden top with his eldest son while Isobel sits with a sleeping Oliver in her arms.

'He's ready when you are.'

Nathan immediately scrambles to his feet to run in but is restrained by his father's hand on his shoulder.

'Remember what we said,' Liam reminds him gently.

Nathan nods but turns his eyes to Emma. 'Is it true, Emma? Is he really sick?'

She has to take a moment to steady herself before crushing the boy's optimism. She crouches down to his level before speaking. 'He is very hurt and he is going to need lots of looking after but,' she lowers her voice, 'shall I tell you a secret?'

At the enthusiastic nodding of Nathan's dark curls, she continues, 'Your Uncle Killian is the bravest man I know.' His young eyes light up with glee. She makes the mistake of meeting Liam's eyes only to find him swiping away the tears with the back of his hand. Isobel is immediately by his side lacing their fingers together.

'Have you forgotten about me?' comes a strained voice from the room behind them.

Nathan practically tears into the room and is at Killian's side in seconds. He scrambles up on to the bed but heeds his father's advice, carefully patting Killian's head and smiling down at him with the toothy smile of a six year old.

'Hey, little man.'

'I missed you, Uncle Killian!'

'You too, lad,' Killian replies. She can see the effort he is putting in to not coughing. Doesn't miss the way his left hand twitches as he clamps it to his side. Emma swiftly lifts Nathan over to her side of the bed. The child giggles at the dramatic noises Emma makes while lifting him and to anyone else it would seem that Emma is simply clearing the way for Isobel to great her brother-in-law.

There are more tears as Isobel lovingly thanks him for his stubborn bravery and he is introduced to the nephew they never thought he would never meet. The look Killian wears on his battered face when Liam introduces Oliver Killian Jones to him is one she will not forget.

She feels the walls she has steadily erected around her heart in the last three years begin to break. The tidal wave of emotions she has kept at bay suddenly swell and burst and she can't breathe. She can't remember how she managed to keep it together all this time. How she had found the strength to keep going - to exist in a world in which he was not. Now, now he is here. Inches away from her and it simply too much.

On shaking feet she stands up unannounced. Carefully setting Nathan to his feet she mumbles something about being warm - needing air - as she moves to leave. She vaguely hears the concerned call of little Nathan, Isobel' offer (I'll go) to comfort her but it is Killian's tired voice that is the final thing she hears as she flees.

'Stay. She needs some time.'

\---------

And he was right, she acknowledges. She had needed time. Time to try and process the shock and the pain and _joy_ of if all. But needing time alone doesn't necessarily mean time alone from him. It had never really meant that since they had met and now that his sheer existence felt like such a gift it feels even less relevant.

She tugs at the sleeves of her jacket, pulling them down over the the tips of her cold fingers. The evening air has turned crisp and cool; the sun a fading memory on the horizon. It's been a couple of hours she thinks and she had dearly needed the time to breathe and align herself with this new reality, but now... now she needs him. Needs once more to see him and hear the comfort of his voice no matter how broken he may be. (And he is. There's no denying it. Darkness has caressed his soul until it found the cracks and eased itself in. He's good at hiding it, but not from her.)

She takes in one last look at the view over the water and turns to head back. She startles at the sight of her father at the other side of the clearing. The way he's leaning back against the tree makes her think he's been there for quite some time.

His trademark easy smile slides over his face when she moves towards him. It always impresses her, how uniquely calm her father can be in a crisis. He's a good leader, a good man, but a better father. It's been just the two of them for quite some time now and Emma still marvels at how lucky she is to have him.

It wasn't until Killian was taken that she truly understood his strength. How he had held their family and their kingdom together after her mother was taken. How he had had the strength to support them all when he was irreparably broken.

She melts into his warm embrace.

'Dad,' she asks, 'have you seen him?'

It's daft, she knows, but she almost needs his confirmation. This is real. This is _true_.

'How do you think I knew where to find you?' he smiles and presses a kiss to her hair.

They turn to walk back, 'Where to?' her father asks her.

She lets herself smile, 'Where else would I go?'

\--------

Liam is dozing in a chair beside his bed when she renters the makeshift bedroom they have made for him in Ruby's drawing room. She pulls up at chair on his other side and leans heavily into the chair. Exhaustion washes over her but she knows she will not sleep. She catalogues every bruise, every gash, every scar she can see. Stores it away to use a fuel to fight. Killian murmurs in his sleep and Liam's eyes shoot open. Disoriented and alert.

'It's okay,' she reassures him.

He drags a hand through his unkempt hair and looks longingly down at his little brother before turning his attention to her. 'Are you okay, lass?'

She nods and feels more assured of the fact than she had an hour ago.

'I can't believe he's really here,' he marvels.

She eventually persuades Liam to get a couple of hours rest in one of the guest rooms upstairs. He finally nods his assent on a yawn and promises to relieve Emma in a couple of hours.

She'll welcome back Liam's company, but has no plan on going anywhere. There are two members of the Secret Guard outside the door and another dozen patrolling the grounds but she is here for a different reason tonight. She is here to comfort him in any way she can.

He wakes gasping on a silent scream. His hand is clammy beneath her own but she can see from his eyes it is from the nightmares and not from his physical wounds. Victor had given him a cocktail potent enough to warrant relief enough to sleep.

'You're here,' he rasps in wonderment.

She smiles and shakes her head at the irony. 'I could say the same to you.'

'I never thought I would see you again, Emma. I fought and fought but I never I thought I would ...' he trails off and they both know how the sentiment ends. He never thought he would leave with his soul intact.

'I'm right here,' she assures him caressing his brow.

'You've grown so beautiful,' he whispers and she feels the heat flame in her cheeks. 'You always were of course, but you seem more accepting of who you are now. Your magic, your role. I'm proud of you.'

She wants to say it then. Wants to tell him but his eyelids are fluttering shut as exhaustion encroaches upon him once again.

'Sleep,' she soothes, 'I'll be here when you wake.'

'As you wish.' His eyes slide shut. 

 


	3. Part 3

He's vocal enough as a figurehead of the resistance. Says exactly what is needed to inspire. He always did have a way with words. He's a hero. And Emma struggles to think of few others so worthy of the title.

He's the nation's hero.

He's also scaring her.

She doesn't miss the way that darkness dances in his eyes from time to time. Nor the way that he is withdrawing from them. From her.

He's chosen a path she is terrified he won't return from.

She's not the only one to have noticed, of course. Worry is permanently etched across Liam's brow. It's not as if Killian losing himself in his work is new. (He had always been prone to obsessive episodes of research.) But his skipping family meals and forgetting his brother's birthday is.

It had gotten worse since the attack at the medical centre almost a month ago. They had gone for the innocent and the weak - to harm the harmless. The injured, the sick, the innocuous. It turns her stomach to think of it. Malicious intent hadn't been the only reason though.

He'd come to draw out Killian. Knew he would appear along with the other members of the Secret Guard. _He's_ _mine_ , he had seethed as his army of followers and the possessed did his bidding. She had turned her head from her own fight to see Killian moving towards him, towards Gold, with his head held high. She moved as if to support him only to find herself unable to go further. Magic - Killian's magic - held her in place. She couldn't look away, but couldn't bare to see him moving forward to battle the man responsible for the death of thousands, the man responsible for Killian's demons.

It seemed impossible but she watched as Killian's magic matched Rumplestiltskin's with each move. He had always been an excellent fighter - capable, agile, innovative - but this was something else entirely. He seemed to be sensing Gold's moves before he made them. Anticipating the attack before it happened. It felt like hours but could only have been minutes. Minutes until Gold disappeared taking his army with him. He may have left but it was clear that their fight wasn't over.

He had marked Killian as his enemy.

Killian had proven himself a match.

With the hold on her movements released, she had rushed over to him but he was all business. She understood it in the moment, there was much work to be done, but every day since he had been slipping away. She feels as if she is losing him all over again.

She hasn't seen him outside of council meetings in three weeks and it gnaws away at her constantly. He's the last to arrive and the first to leave. He speaks only of the war, of their strategies and then leaves. His eyes are downcast flipping through paper work or firmly set on the table top in front of him.

He never looks at her.

She watches him leave as everyone else watches her.

They're hoping she has the answers. (He was always better at reading her than she was him.)

Now... now he's becoming a foreign language to her.

\--------

She's sitting in the study with her father when she suddenly can't take the inaction any more. She aches to talk to him, to see him, to spend time with him. This is somehow worse than anything before because his absence is by choice. He doesn't want her.

She needs to confront him for her own sanity if not nothing else. He may push her away, he may refuse to acknowledge it, but he cannot stop her from speaking her mind.

She's on her feet without knowing where to go. He's smart enough to have not been at the guard's quarters or his own lodgings the last few weeks.

'He's at the groundsman's lodge at the Winter House,' her father speaks quietly. His eyes never leave the fire and though he has made the choice to tell her, his eyes remain full of indecision.

He knew? He knew where he was and hadn't told her?

Before she can formulate a response, her father speaks again and the calmness in his voice quells her indignation.

'Victor has been assisting him in his research and plans on occasion. I have known he was alive and in a secure location but nothing more.' He raises his gaze to meet hers. 'I did not wish to tell you because I fear you will be hurt.'

She's already hurting. She turns away from him to look out of the window. She knows he is only trying to protect her, protect her heart, but she can't shy away from this.

Her father speaks again as he stands to move beside her. 'I have almost gone there myself on more than one occasion.'

She hates how young and vulnerable she sounds when she speaks, 'What stopped you?'

'The fact that I am king.' A heavy sigh leaves her father and she waits for him to continue. 'As someone who cares greatly about Killian, I have wanted nothing more than to go to him and tell him that he does not have to do this alone. To tell him that he does not need to push us away.'

Tears she has not given permission to threaten tumble down her cheeks. She knows what is to come next.

'As his King, I cannot in all conscience try and dissuade him from this path when he is the best chance we have of ending this war once and for all.'

She allows a tear to fall.

Her father is right.

\--------

Her father is right and yet she cannot _not_ try. This is Killian. He's a part of her and she cannot bare to have him slip away from her for a second time.

Dawn breaks on a cold winter's morning when she finally arrives at her destination. The levels of security around the house prevented her from entering by magic but a part of her is grateful for the delay.

She's terrified.

She's terrified that he will have lost himself. She's terrified that she has already lost him.

There's smoke billowing out from the chimney and the temptation of the warmth of a fire is enough to carry her the final few steps to the door.

Her knock is muffled by her thick, woollen gloves but he is at the door instantly. Unnervingly quickly. Emma catalogues it as another concern.

Before any sense of relief that he is still in one piece can flood through her, he is already addressing her in thinly concealed anger.

'You shouldn't have come.' He keeps his gaze averted as he walks away but he leaves the door open.

She steps inside and presses it shut behind her. The crackling of the fire in the hearth is the only sound as she slips off her wet gloves and coat.

He turns away from her as he busies himself with something. She can see the way the muscles in his jaw clench.

He has always been the patient one but she will wait. She's not about to be turned away by a few terse words.

She keeps her eyes trained on the fire in the grate and concentrates on her breathing. She wills her heartbeat to slow down. If she is to have any success here, she needs composure.

Eventually he turns and presses a warm mug of steaming cocoa into their hand. The faint scent of cinnamon catches her nose and hope flickers inside of her at the tenderness of the gesture.

When she looks up and finally meets his gaze, her hope dissipates.

His eyes are not his own. Suddenly it makes sense: the down-turned head; the hooded cloaks; the isolation. The blue is edged aside by a monstrous, burning red.

'You should not have come.' His dismissal reverberates in her mind as he turns away from her once again.

Her earlier attempt at calm evaporates (She always operated best on instinct and passion.). She moves to him instantly and yanks his arm to turn her around and face her. Maybe she can read him better than she thinks. He's ashamed of how he is before her. That's why he wants her gone so badly.

She won't leave him without him understanding that such notions are absurd.

'Killian,' she says but still he refuses to me her eye. 'Killian,' she shouts, 'look at me!'

The strength in her voice at that moment surprises the both of them and he lets out a shaky exhale as he finally (finally) meets her gaze.

Her heart breaks at what she sees. He looks terrible. His hair unkempt and his skin sallow. He had looked broken upon his return, but there's something darker clinging to him now. There's a weeping gash to his forearm and a myriad of other visible wounds.

She slowly, hesitantly, as if approaching a wild animal, raises her palm before him and lightly cups his cheek. She can feel the clammy sheen to his skin beneath her palm.

'Emma,' he breathes and it's a thank you and a plea to leave all in one.

She raises her other hand to cup the other cheek and holds his gaze with hers.

It's something akin to magic - the way the blue begins to seep back into his eyes. She can feel the warmth returning to his skin beneath her palms and she promises herself in that moment to not turn away from him.

He will not face this alone.

His eyes fall shut as he feels the warmth from her touch wash over him. She wonders that last time anyone had touched him. The last time he had dared to let anyone close enough to do so.

'Emma, I'm sorry.' It's barely even a whisper but Emma knows in that moment that she will never forget those words. He's not lost. Her Killian. He's here beneath the darkness he is sacrificing himself to. Bent and broken, but here.

She can't bring herself to answer straight away - not yet trusting her voice. When she finally speaks she makes sure to keep his eyes firmly on hers. Holds his head between her hands, their foreheads almost touching. Hoping somehow that he will see what she cannot say.

'You shouldn't apologise for your bravery, for shouldering a burden nobody else would. I just wish you wouldn't push us away.' She searches for the right words to tell him that she cannot survive it if he does but everything sounds too selfish.

'I don't want you to see me like this,' he agonises. He finally pulls free from her grasp and steps back. He squares his shoulders a little and she fears the ground she has made is lost.

'Killian,' she pleads, 'don't push me away. Don't do this. You have nothing to be ashamed of.'

He explodes then. The lamp across the far side of the room shatters and the portraits on the wall shake from the force of his emotion. 'No reason? No reason to be ashamed? He is in my bloody head, Emma. All the time! I see the things that he does. I can feel them and I feel how he likes it. I feel it too. I feel the sick, perverted pleasure he draws from it. I feel it because they are becoming my feelings too.' He's physically shaking from trying to contain his anger. Trying to contain the dark magic forced upon him. His hand, the connection with Gold. He's exploiting it to save them while it slowly kills him.

She wants to go to him, to comfort him but he's too angry. Too unstable right now. She knows the next words out of her mouth are crucial and so she waits.

'You are the best man I will ever know.'

The pacing stops. His chest continues to heave up and down with the exertion of trying to quell his anger. He grips the table edge until his bruised knuckles turn white.

'I hate that it is you having to make this choice. Having to be the person who is putting everything on the line for this. You have already given so much.'

He turns to face her and her heart feels exhausted. He doesn't deserve this. Doesn't deserve his life to no longer be his own. To have lost years of his life only to return and sacrifice himself all over again. It's absurd and devastating (and it's breaking her heart).

'I am so proud of you. I am so proud of this selfless thing you are doing but I hate,' her voice catches in her throat, 'I hate that it has to be you.'

He steps toward her then with tears in his eyes, but she holds out an arm to stop him. She needs to get this out. 'You need to let someone in. Please.' She knows she is begging now. Hears how desperate her voice sounds but she can't stop it. She needs to make him listen. He has to believe her. 'Please Killian, even if it isn't me.'

He opens his mouth to speak but she continues before he can protest. 'And don't say it doesn't help. It does. Look at what happened when I held you! Your family are not going to turn away from you. You will lose yourself to this darkness if you do not let the good in.'

There is a moment where they simply look at one another and it's as if she is taken back to the day that they met. When he found her. When, somehow, he made her feel like she wasn't alone in the world. (Irony is a cruel mistress she thinks as their roles are now so bitterly reversed.)

Time is a strange entity. No more so than in moments like this. All that has happened between them - all that may never happen - hovers in the space between them.

'Okay,' he whispers.

'Okay'

She slowly lowers her arm then and allows herself to be wrapped up in his fierce embrace.

'I'll let you in,' he murmurs into her hair.

Those walls she has so carefully raised and maintained over the years crumble down around her.

\--------

He and Liam go camping for the night three days later. They had both bristled at Isobel's suggestion to begin with. _(There was too much to do, they couldn't leave at a time like this)_. Emma has no idea what Liam's wife had threatened the two Jones brothers with, but they were packed to leave within the hour.

She never asks about it, but the awkwardness and the uncertainty between them has entirely dissipated upon their return.

The Jones brothers are back.

The news spreads like wildfire and the momentum seems to be building towards the moment they have been waiting for.

It cannot come soon enough. Though Emma was right, Killian is better able to chase the demons away with their support, he cannot sustain his connection with Gold for much longer.

\---------

Magic crackles in the air; dark clouds cling to the horizon shrouding the group in secrecy as they appear on the outskirts of the castle grounds. Emma is flanked by Ruby and Elsa. They’re focussed on the task ahead. The tips of Elsa’s gloves peek out from the pocket of her cloak as Emma can sense the power radiating from her friend. Ruby’s eyes dart around the area. Emma has learned long ago not to underestimate the brunette’s brazen exterior.

  
She allows herself a momentary glance to her left. She can’t make out the group of figures she knows to be there. They’re awaiting their signal to proceed. She cannot dwell on the possible consequences of what proceeding will mean for her, for him, for them all. She can’t afford her focus to drift.

Not now.

  
Not now when everything she holds dear in this world is at stake.

  
After weeks, months, years of planning and building toward this moment it is finally here. Everything will depend on this night. Knows it will be remembered in history. That chapters of this life will be divided into those before this night and those afterward. How she dearly wishes she could be the author of the next chapters. Instead, she can hope. And she can fight.

  
She sees the beam of light from the opposite edge of the forest where the blue team are located. It's their signal to move out.

  
Inhale.

  
Exhale.

  
They move forward.

  
\---------

  
She knows, knows somewhere deep down inside herself, how this has ended. She feels it in her very soul and yet she can’t quite let herself believe it until she sees him for herself, feels the warmth of his skin beneath the palm of her hand, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her hand.

  
\--------  
He had experienced many emotions as a king, as a father, but no moment quite compared to this. A crowd, neigh a stampede, has gathered outside of the palace gates. Desperate for news, for information, for words they have only dreamed of.

  
Of course the mission had been shrouded in secrecy but news such as this spreads fast. His wife’s words about hope echo in his mind and he longs bitterly for her to be by his side. It is hope that has rallied these people, his people, tonight.

  
It is a night not to be forgotten. He knows what the crowd needs to hear and he knows that they deserve to hear it, but he is so incredibly tired - tired of the struggle and the pain.

  
Graham rides alongside him and he is forever grateful for the guard’s companionship and professionalism.

  
When the crowd finally sees it is their king approaching, they fall quiet. He tugs the reigns on his horse and comes to a halt at the gates. Emma tells him that she wishes to be able to make speeches the way he does one day. How she admires the way he always knows what to say. How he speaks from the heart to the hearts of his people.

  
He smiles at the irony when he channels his daughter’s bluntness tonight.

  
‘The man you know as Rumplestiltskin, Robert Gold, is dead.’

  
A shiver of disbelief runs through the crowd. He takes a breath and continues, ‘His body is under the custody of the Secret Guard and the majority of his followers have been captured.’

  
He pauses.

  
‘We do not know for definite how this will impact on the bodies of those he and his followers have hi-jacked. There is still much work to be done. Tonight,’ he pauses and surveys the disbelief and the hope and the tears in the eyes of the crowd, ‘tonight is night to be with your loved ones. Go home. We begin work tomorrow to re-build our kingdom.’

  
He turns away from them as the cheer erupts. He lets it wash over him.

  
Tonight is about family and he needs to see his daughter.

  
\--------

  
She isn’t at the medical centre. He knows he uses his ‘King voice’ on Victor (and really the man doesn’t deserve it) when he is informed that Emma refused treatment, used a quick heal spell on her injuries and disappeared. He knows not where.

  
Elsa catches up to him as he reaches the back exit to the facility. He can’t afford to be seen by the crowds outside of the centre or he will never get away.

  
‘David,’ she calls as he turns to see her run down the corridor towards him, ‘she’s okay.’

  
Relief washes over him. He cannot comprehend what would become of him if she were not by his side. The two of them have made it through –together. And he knows, gods does he know that she is capable of taking care of herself. That she is a young adult now. Independent and strong and powerful. (None of this changes the fact that she will always be his little girl.)

  
‘She left word that they were going home.’

  
His head whips up. _They?_ Elsa must read the question in his eyes because she nods as a tear slips down her tired face.

  
His arms pull her into a hug. If a King can’t hug his friend and fellow monarch at a time like this, who can he hug?

  
‘I’ll speak to the crowds tonight,’ she tells him as she pushes him towards the exit. ‘Go. Go see your girl.’

  
He doesn’t need telling twice.

  
And it’s strangely quiet when he reaches the palace. He moves through the house until he reaches her door. It is left ajar and he can see the warm glow of the fire dancing within. He toes it open and sighs at the sight he sees before him.

  
His daughter is safe.

  
His daughter is safe and wrapped up in the embrace of the man that she loves. (They were always terrible at hiding it and there’s no sense in denying themselves now.)

  
They’re both on top of the covers and still in the clothes from the battle. Killian on his back and Emma is curled up into his side, her arm thrown protectively over his chest. Killian’s face is a tangled mass of bruises and there’s an inordinate amount of blood on his clothing for a man still alive. He dreads to think how many healing spells Killian has endured so that the two of them can have this moment. His left leg is propped up on cushions and the shirt sleeves of his uniform are torn (burnt?) so that the livid cuts on his wrist glow in the light of the fire.

  
Breathing is clearly some difficulty. His chest stutters as it heaves and falls in ragged breaths.

  
David cannot stop the tears that come to his eyes.

  
They had won.

  
They were safe.

  
His little girl was here- covered in cuts and bruises, but here and whole.

  
The two of them had made it through.

  
He looks back at the scene before him as he leaves and corrects himself.

  
The three of them had made it through.

  
\---------

  
She hadn’t thrown herself at him, hadn’t broken down in tears. Emma had simply let the sight of him (bloodied and half collapsed as he was) wash over her before she had walked over to him and gently taken his hands in hers.

  
‘Can you make it out of here?’ she’d breathed.

  
He’d never heard words which had brought him such comfort before. He couldn’t be the hero right now. He just needed to be with the woman he loved. (It was about bloody time he stopped denying it.)

  
Despite his body’s protests, he hobbled down the corridor with her support. Felt the cloaking charm she wrapped around them so that they could make their escape.

  
‘I may need some looking after,’ he joked. The chuckle forced his split lip to reopen and Emma used a clean patch of her cloak to dab away the blood. He saw in her expression that she had grasped the weight of his words hidden behind the nonsense. He rarely asked for anything but he would need her now.

  
‘It’s a good job I’m going nowhere,’ she whispered as she pressed a kiss to cheek.

  
He could do this, he thought; he could heal if he had her by his side.

  
They’d somehow made it to her room before he had fallen down. Luckily, her bed had caught his fall and with some cajoling, he managed to slip off his boots so that they could prop his leg up on an improvised cushion tower. He’s fairly certain he has cast enough charms to get him through the night in one piece.

  
Emma curls into his side. His body protests but he twists his head to glance down at her. Her hand trembles where it is curled protectively in his bloodied shirt.

  
‘You’re here?’

  
Her voice is quiet and he knows she had no intention of the sentiment ever sounding like a question on her lips. He understands though. His injuries feel plenty real but the ramifications of this night haven’t fully sunk in yet.

  
‘Aye,’ he answers, ‘I’m here.’ He waits for her to look up and finally meet his eyes. He’s always loved her eyes. ‘I’m here for as long as you’ll have me.’

  
A soft smile curls on her lips and he sees the emotions shine in her eyes. She knows the meaning in the words. Knows the silent vow they have exchanged with each other tonight.

‘Good,’ she mumbles as tucks herself back into his side.

  
There will be a bevy of loose ends and answers needed in the morning. Now, now they are exactly where they are supposed to be.

  
They’ve earned this moment. They have earned this chance.

  
He doesn’t plan to waste it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to the creators of Once Upon a Time


End file.
